


acidus

by irishgal19



Category: Cloud Atlas (2012), Cloud Atlas - All Media Types, Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
Genre: M/M, Rufus aching for Frobisher to show a /bit/ more affection and Frobisher being Frobisher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgal19/pseuds/irishgal19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Whilst scrolling through the frobismith tag on tumblr, I came across an ask from johtoing to midnighttypewrite to choose between Frobisher and Sixsmith for some kind of meme (not sure exactly what it was, sorry Samantha) and was inspired. This is written entirely in the conversations between Frobisher and Sixsmith, based off of the ask, which is here: http://midnighttypewrite.tumblr.com/post/86153493767/oooh-do-frobisher-x-sixmith-is-there-a-ship-name-for<br/>This was written at around 2 AM and wasn't beta'd or anything, so I apologize for any typos or mistakes. And yes, the all-lowercase was on purpose.<br/>By the way, the title, acidus, is latin for sharp or sour.</p>
    </blockquote>





	acidus

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst scrolling through the frobismith tag on tumblr, I came across an ask from johtoing to midnighttypewrite to choose between Frobisher and Sixsmith for some kind of meme (not sure exactly what it was, sorry Samantha) and was inspired. This is written entirely in the conversations between Frobisher and Sixsmith, based off of the ask, which is here: http://midnighttypewrite.tumblr.com/post/86153493767/oooh-do-frobisher-x-sixmith-is-there-a-ship-name-for  
> This was written at around 2 AM and wasn't beta'd or anything, so I apologize for any typos or mistakes. And yes, the all-lowercase was on purpose.  
> By the way, the title, acidus, is latin for sharp or sour.

“what’s this now, robert?”  
“it’s called a dragon fruit, sixsmith! isn’t it stupendous?”  
“i’m sure. what is it, though?”  
“well, it’s a fruit, of course.”  
“that’s all very well, frobisher. but where is the milk?”  
“milk?”  
“yes, frobisher, the milk.”  
“you could feast like a god on the nectar of a dragon fruit and you’re asking for milk?”  
“well, yes, frobisher, that was the reason i sent you out.”  
“well. i apologize for my incompetency.”   
“frobisher, you aren’t incompetent. forget about the milk. thank you for the dragon fruit, i’m sure it’ll taste lovely.”  
“you’re welcome, sixsmith. i agree.”

\- -

“robert, is that a spider?”  
“why, yes, sixsmith, it is. thank you for asking.”  
“why is it under a glass?”  
“why not, my dearest? why not? there is much to be gained from the observance of spiders.”  
“i see.

it’s just, robert, hasn’t it been under that glass an awful long while?”  
“i suppose.”  
“hadn’t you ought to let it out, darling?”  
“i guess you are right, dearest, there is nothing left to be gained from this arachnid. i shall release it immediately.”  
“no, robert, not inside! -”

\- -

“robert? robert, is that you?”  
“oh, mon cher, of course it’s me. it’s three am and the stars have come out of their hiding places and i have drink running through my veins as if it’s blood - the nerve! et oui, mon ange, ma moitié, it is me.”  
“for heaven’s sake, robert. you nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.”  
“if i had, i would have followed you over the edge, mon trésor, my darlingest dearest.”  
“robert, come to bed.”  
“i’ll be there in a minute, sixsmith. the sky is lovely tonight.”  
“so are you, robert. the sky cannot compare.”

\- -

“robert, have you made breakfast?”  
“yes, sixsmith, it seems i have!”  
“and what have you made?”  
“i believe this is called banista. it’s from bulgaria, and this would be the bulgarian yoghourt to go with it.”  
“and what are these brown things here?”  
“they’re called dates, mon chou. here, try a taste.”  
 “robert, i can feed myse - mmf! these are quite good!”  
“i knew they would be. now try the banista.”  
“what is it, again?”  
“it’s a flaky sort of cheese chake type of - thing. just try it.”  
“i quite like it, robert.”  
“thank you, sixsmith. i rather thought you might.”

\- -

“why are you feeding them again?”  
“because they’re fish, robert. they need feeding four to six times daily.”  
“why? i’m perfectly fine with only one meal a day.”  
“well, robert, you aren’t a fish, and besides, you aren’t fine with only one meal. are you often skipping meals? you’re wasting away.”  
“keep your fishy hands away from me. i’m fine. i eat when i’m hungry.”  
“so do the fish.”   
“but it’s hardly natural to be hungry so often.”  
“actually, robert, there are studies that suggest that human beings would benefit from smaller, more frequent meals, much like i give to the fish.”  
“how frequent?”  
“more than once per day, that’s certain.”  
“oh, for - look here, i’m fine, and i most definitely do not need six meals per day, and neither do your stinking fish.”  
“robert, come back, i didn’t mean to - 

oh, never mind.”

\- -

“sixsmith, this apartment is awfully bare.”   
“yes, i suppose it is.”  
“don’t you think you should do something about it?”  
“what do you mean, robert?”  
“you know, throw up some paintings, or something. some curtains, and rugs. toss some flowers in a jug.”  
“i suppose that would be nice.”  
“yes, it would, wouldn’t it?”  
“why, frobisher?”  
“well, you can hardly expect me to be inspired by gray walls and a bare floor and empty window sills.”  
“is that what my sitting room is to you? inspiration?”  
“not your sitting room, sixsmith, you are.”  
“oh.”  
“mm.”  
“that’s very kind of you to say, robert.”  
“i know it is, sixsmith. so when should i start?”  
“start what?”  
“decorating.”  
“oh no, frobisher, don’t worry about it. i’ll handle it.”  
“oh. alright, then.”

\- -

“soooooooooomewheeeeeeeeeeere, ooooooooooover the raaaaaaainbow - come on, robert, sing along!”  
“that’s quite alright, sixsmith.”  
“no, it isn’t! i’ll die if you don’t sing along!”  
“well, we can’t have that.”  
“no, indeed! so siiiiiiiing!”  
“i haven’t got nearly enough alcohol in my system to get me to sing along to judy garland, my sweet.”  
“frobisherrrrrrrrrr.”  
“yes?”  
“please?”  
“please what?”  
“please sing with me?”  
“oh, alright. if it’ll make you happy.”  
“it will, dearest.”  
“soooooooooomewheeeeeeeeeere ooooooooooooooover the raaaaaaaaaainbow, skiiiiiiiiieeeeeees aaaaaaaaaare bluuuuuuuuuuuuue”

\- -

“robert, come to bed.”  
“not now, sixsmith.”  
“robert, please.”  
“the sky is awake, mon puce, and so i am awake.”  
“robert, it’s been days. come to bed.”  
“don’t you worry. i’ll sleep when i need it. inspiration finds me on her own whims and i can’t help but heed her command.”  
“robert. please.”  
“i’m sorry, sixsmith.”


End file.
